by Steve Hadden
“Jenna? So how do we do that in six days?” Lauren said.
“We need a full court press. After six months of digging, our investigators have turned up nothing. So we use what the other side fears most.”
“Ike Rossi?”
Jenna held out the card. “Ike Rossi.”
Lauren stood with her purse. “Let me talk to him. Let me talk to Ike Rossi. He and Jack had a connection—I know it. I’ll convince him to help.”
Jenna considered the offer. She hated money and how it bought verdicts. She wanted to win—for Jack, of course, but deep down she had something to prove. She was just as good as any of them. So far, they hadn’t shown her any respect. She was holding her own, but she’d lose if they didn’t turn up evidence to support Jack’s claims. His young life would be over and her father’s practice would be a shambles along with their reputations. She would be the has-been they claimed she was. The question was whether she was willing to put that in the hands of Lauren and a stranger named Ike Rossi.
In that moment, she decided she’d go with her instincts. She glanced at her father, who gave her the expression he always did: he was in full support of whatever she decided. She turned back to Lauren.
“Okay. Go get us Ike Rossi.”
CHAPTER 6
For Joseph Falzone, the ride down I-279 into the city took forever. There were tremors afoot and the epicenter seemed to be around Ike Rossi. He wasn’t afraid of Rossi, he was afraid of not knowing the odds. He’d run numbers for his father in his youth and gambled and lost several times in the oil fields of Texas. But then he deciphered the odds and played them to his advantage, and he hit it big.
The briefing from his sources said Rossi was good. A former Penn State chemical engineering student athlete who, upon his parents’ murders, had come home. With the help of the detective who’d investigated the murders, he won an internship with the Pittsburgh Police Department. At the same time, he enrolled at Point Park University and earned a master’s degree in criminal justice. Upon graduating, he landed a job in corporate security at a local oil company. When a Houston-based company purchased his firm, Rossi started consulting on private security and investigative services. The report said he rarely failed.
The word was he’d been recently contacted regarding the suicides of the CEO and CFO of one of Houston’s largest oil companies less than eighteen months apart. Joseph hoped the large retainer and the specter of facing off with the Falzones would be enough for Rossi to stay away from Lauren Bottaro and her attorney. But the file also revealed he was a man who’d surrendered his Penn State football scholarship at nineteen to come home and raise his nine-year-old sister. Worse yet, he’d always been obsessed with finding his parents’ killer. That pointed to a man of principle and justice. He couldn’t handicap the chance that Rossi would agree to help Jack.
Joseph couldn’t risk it. The multibillion-dollar enterprise he’d built wildcatting in West Texas was in jeopardy. But that wasn’t what occupied his mind late at night. It was the risk to his family. Information was hard to protect, but information was the one thing that could topple his empire and crush his family. He couldn’t take that chance. He’d have to attack.
His driver dropped him at the private elevator in the executive garage of the fifty-five-story building he’d constructed upon his triumphant return to Pittsburgh in the mid-eighties. In true Pittsburgh tradition, it was a fifty-five-story finger in his abusive father’s face. A year later he bought his father’s failing glass company, and two years later flipped it for three times the price. His father died that same year. Joseph liked to think he’d had a hand in hurrying his father along.
On the ride up to his office, he stretched his starched collar and readied to face the family. Erin, his second wife of thirty years, would be waiting to hear the outcome of the settlement conference. She cared deeply for Jack, even to the point of thinking it might be best for Jack to stay with Lauren Bottaro. Nick, his oldest son and twin to his daughter, Brenda, would be eager to hear that Jack was in their control. Unlike his stepmother, Nick was quite aware of what was at risk. For him it was more than the company or the family, it was personal. His own freedom, perhaps his own life, was in the hands of a ten-year-old boy.
And Shannon, Joseph’s daughter with Erin, would be there to help spin the result to the public. She’d been a gift to Joseph. With her brother, Patrick, gone, she was the most competent of all the children. She ran the Falzone Foundation and handled all the PR for the company and the family. Erin and Shannon knew nothing of the risks to the family and the company, and he needed to keep it that way.
The elevator stopped and he tensed for battle. The door opened and he pivoted to the right and headed down the long mahogany hallway to his office. He strode with determination and heard his footsteps echo loudly, announcing his arrival. He saw Erin step out of the doorway to his reception area. Despite her smile, her eyes revealed concern. He gently hugged her and led her into his office.
“Give us a few minutes, Stephanie,” he said to his secretary. He closed his door and dropped his black folio on the corner of his desk and faced Erin. She dropped her purse next to the folio.
“How did it go, darling?”
Joseph paused. “There was no settlement, but I made them an offer.”
“An offer?”
He held her by the shoulders. “Honey, I just want this to be over. I want our grandson to have the benefit of his grandparents. So I made an offer they couldn’t decline out of hand.”
“How much?”
“Enough. You don’t need to know the details.”
“What did they say?”
He could see her optimism eroding. “Nothing yet, but don’t worry.”
“I am worried Joseph. I’m worried about Jack.”
“He’ll be with us soon.”
“I just want what’s best for him. His trial starts Monday. That’s a week. The papers say he’ll be convicted. I don’t want our grandson in prison.”
He pulled her to his chest and did his best to hide the battle ripping up his insides. He didn’t want Jack to go to prison, but he didn’t want his only full-blooded son to either. He couldn’t admit that his grandson had simply become a pawn he had to control. To save them all.
“I’m doing all we can, dear.”
She pulled back. “You know his aunt doesn’t seem to be a bad person. He seems happy with her. Can we just help them both?”
“That’s why I made the offer.”
A commotion in the outer office caught his attention.
“Mr. Falzone,” he heard Stephanie say. “Your father said he didn’t want to be—”
The door flew open and Nick barged in. “Did you get him?” he said, ignoring his stepmother as he always did.
Joseph flashed his anger with one look.
Nick glanced at Erin. “Oh, sorry. Hi, Erin—did we get him?”
“Not yet.”
“Not yet? It’s only a week away!”
Nick had always had a temper. Joseph blamed that on his mother, who was an unstable narcissist of the grandest proportions. It was the affliction he’d divorced. She’d taken a payoff to leave Nick with him at the age of nine. Nick had been mad ever since. But he was smart and he had great business sense. He’d doubled the value of their oil holdings in three years. So Joseph always gave him the benefit of the doubt, a position he’d questioned ever since Patrick’s death. But Joseph needed to shut Nick down before Erin got suspicious.
Joseph moved close to Nick. Nick was a foot shorter and Joseph could still intimidate his son. “They’re considering the offer. That’s it. I don’t want to hear any more, Nick.”
Erin’s expression showed her disdain for her stepson’s disrespect. “Darling, I still think we should do what’s best for Jack.”
“This is the best for that little criminal,” Nick said and glared at Erin.
Joseph launched another warning. “Nick.”
Erin dried her eyes and stuffed
the tissue into her purse. She dropped the purse into the bend of her elbow. “I thought at some point you’d get some manners when you grew up. You’re forty-two and we’re still waiting.”
“You’re not my mother.”
Joseph saw Erin’s eyes soften as she spotted someone over Nick’s shoulders. Shannon knocked on the door frame.
“Can I come in, Father?”
Joseph waved her in.
Shannon walked to her mother and gave her a long hug. “Love you, Mom,” she whispered.
Shannon was the rescuer. She had unmatched instinct and timing. She kissed her mom on the cheek and then touched Joseph’s shoulder and air-kissed his cheek. “Hi, Father.” Then deadpanned to her stepbrother. “Nick.”
Nick just flicked a feeble wave in her direction.
The greetings said it all. For Joseph, blending his families had been like building a bomb. Especially when one member bled contempt. One misstep might destroy it. But for Joseph, this was all still worth saving.
Shannon looked at him and raised her eyebrows.
“Nothing, yet,” he said.
“All right,” Shannon said. “We’re still getting a flood of inquiries for comments on the custody dispute and its effect on the trial. It’s not just local. It’s the Journal, the Times, and USA Today, along with every major network.”
“I know. Keep holding them off with the statement. No comment on pending legal matters.”
“Okay. I’m also having lunch with the editor from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Just keeping channels open for when we need them.”
She was the smartest in the family. It was a shame she was only twenty-six. Joseph had so much more for her to do.
“Oh, and don’t forget the banquet’s tonight. It’s the kickoff for the Special Olympics and you’re the featured guest.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Shannon took Erin’s arm. “Come on, Mom. I have some great letters to the foundation I’d like to show you.”
Erin leaned over and Joseph hugged her. They passed by Nick as if he weren’t there.
Nick stepped to the door and closed it.
“You need to show more respect for Erin,” Joseph said.
Nick smiled and walked back to his father. “We’ve got much more important matters to deal with. We need to control the kid.”
“I offered them five million. That could be enough. I also have Judge Kelly on the hook.”
“If that kid’s father told him about the data or anything about Patrick, we’re both done.”
“I know. You think I’m not focused on that?” Joseph soothed his temper as he went behind his desk. “We have another problem.”
Nick looked as if he’d been punched in the stomach. “What now?”
“I saw Bottaro and Jack talking with a guy named Ike Rossi in the courthouse.”
“Oh, shit. Rossi? One of the guys at the club hired him and said he was the best he’d seen.”
“I had Brooks check him out. He is good. Too good. I made the offer contingent on not hiring him.”
Nick leaned on his knuckles on the desk. “You tipped your hand?”
“Had to. We can’t afford to have him digging. You know it’s impossible to fully secure data these days. And who knows what Cole had copied?” Joseph’s temper flared as he thought about the cesspool Nick’s transgressions had put them in. He shot out of his chair. “And what you did was unforgivable.”
Nick recoiled. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to.”
Joseph had to believe him even though his intuition said otherwise. Exposing Nick would end Joseph’s marriage and Erin and Shannon would be gone. They were the best things in his life.
“Do you think Rossi will help them?” Nick said.
“Don’t know. But we need to be ready. I don’t like the odds. We need insurance.”
Nick’s expression changed instantly from one of remorse to one of satisfying anticipation. He’d had the same look when he confessed to laying his twin sister’s dead cat on her bed. It worried Joseph. “I’ve got some insurance, Dad.”
“Don’t do anything without checking with me. I don’t want to know the details, but don’t do anything. You got me?”
Nick’s confidence had returned. He bowed his head in agreement.
“Now get out of here. I need to get something done today.”
“You got it, Dad.”
Nick left and Joseph dropped back into his chair. He scanned the skyline and traced the rivers mingling at The Point. All of this could be gone. He hated being here. He was relying on a son he’d gambled on—and thought he’d made the right decision. Right up until it wasn’t. He was facing a choice between a grandson and a son—a choice he didn’t want to make.
CHAPTER 7
Ike watched the Pirates’ first baseman swing and miss as they went down in order in the bottom of the first. He sipped the ice-cold Guinness his sister had ready. This was his sanctuary. He’d owned the place since Maria had graduated with her degree in music. It was the perfect fit. Despite Maria’s immense talent as a singer, composer, and pianist, she wanted to stay close to home. She played three nights a week and tended bar and managed the place the rest of the time. She loved working in the same place where people from all over Pittsburgh used to come to enjoy her mother’s cooking.
Their name was on the London pub-style storefront, halfway down Liberty Avenue, in Pittsburgh’s Little Italy, Bloomfield. His mother had worked here for as long as he could remember. She’d said it was her favorite place on earth. Some thought it morbid that he would buy the bar on the alley where his parents had been brutally murdered. But not him. He found great joy here and felt a close connection to his parents’ memory.
Mac sat to his right on the stool he’d occupied every night since his wife, Doris, had passed six years ago. He took a long draw on his beer. “They don’t look good tonight.”
“Eight more innings, my friend,” Ike said, patting Mac on the back.
“The top of the order never does good against lefties,” Maria said as she appeared behind the bar drying a clean mug.
“The Rossis—my eternal optimists,” Mac said, raising his mug.
Mac was the reason they all were here. He and Doris had guided Ike and Maria since they’d met on that painful night. Ike had been lost, but Mac had been more than just the detective assigned to his parents’ murder. He got Ike a part-time internship with the Pittsburgh Police and persuaded him to enroll at Point Park University. While Ike worked and went to school, Doris watched over Maria and took her from school to the Boys & Girls Club in Lawrenceville. Slowly, with all the loving care from Mac and Doris, the wounds healed and a new family formed. It didn’t replace what Ike and Maria had lost, but it gave them the sense of caring and belonging Ike needed to survive being a brother, parent and breadwinner.
Ike took another sip and thought about heading home early to start preparing for the case in Houston. The chairman of the board of an oil company there had called him and asked for his help. He’d work on a retainer of $200,000. The cops had signed off on the suicides of the CEO and the CFO eighteen months apart, but the families and chairman needed more. The police didn’t have all the facts.
“Hey, look at that,” Mac said. “Turn it up, Maria.” Mac looked at Ike. “That’s the kid. That’s the kid we talked to in the courthouse today.”
Maria turned up the volume. The breaking-news graphic said the defense team’s last-minute motion for a change of venue had been denied. Jack looked sad and displaced. It was two-month-old footage from after his arraignment.
“The case of the decade will start on Monday,” the reporter said. “Young Jack Cole, the ten-year-old who shot and killed attorney Franklin Tanner, will be tried as an adult for murder. If convicted, he’d face a sentence of at least twenty-five years to life. Tanner, a father of two, had represented Brenda Cole in the divorce proceeding brought by Jack Cole’s father, Tom, who was later found dead in the f
amily’s garage from carbon monoxide poisoning. Pittsburgh Police said evidence at the scene showed it to be a clear case of suicide. Jenna Price, Cole’s attorney, had this to say to KQDA’s Lon Henderson.”
They cut to a clip of the woman Ike had met at the courthouse. She loomed over the reporter and stared into the camera. “This is a travesty. My client is not guilty of murder. The DA should be ashamed of bringing such charges against a child for his own political gain. And this venue is tainted by the flood of media coverage that has been completely unfair to my client.”
They cut back to the anchor. “Pennsylvania is one of two states that automatically try juveniles charged with first- or second-degree murder as adults. The state currently has more than five hundred prisoners that were convicted as juveniles. That’s far more than any state in the nation. Now, back to the game.”
Maria still held the remote as she turned to Ike. “You talked to him today?’
Ike eyed Maria and put his beer on the bar. “Yes, I did.”
“He looks so scared. What did he say?”
“Not much.” Ike returned to his beer and hoped that was enough. He didn’t want to get into it with his sister. He didn’t want her to relive their agony, even sympathetically.
Mac dropped his mug hard on the bar and shot a look of disappointment at Ike. “He asked Ike if he’d help him.”
Maria locked her widened her eyes on Ike’s. “He asked you to help him? What did you say?”
“His aunt was there and cut him off. She was embarrassed he’d asked.”
“Will you help him?” she said.
Ike saw the pain in Maria’s eyes. He knew where this was going. “Maria,” he said shaking his head. “I understand how this makes you feel. It gets to me, too.”
“No, Ike. That little boy lost his father. His attorney thinks he’s innocent. Someone needs to help him.”
“He has an attorney. I’m sure they know what they’re doing.” He gave Mac a thanks a lot look.
“I read that they don’t stand a chance.” She put both hands on the bar. “You know what it’s like to lose a parent.” She’d hit the nail on the head. Ike did know what it felt like. The pain was always there somewhere. Safely hidden away until something triggered it. And this was triggering a tidal wave. He didn’t want to get close to this. He didn’t want to get involved. He didn’t want to risk failing again. But something had been nagging him since he’d met Jack. He did want to help him, he just couldn’t.